


Within you and Without you

by j520j



Series: Everybody Loves Aziraphale [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bittersweet, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Writers deserve love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22815262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: "William, the Antichrist". The live-action version of the book, written by Gaiman and Pratchett, in Amazon Prime is a huge success! But Neil is feeling lonely without Terry.
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Neil Gaiman
Series: Everybody Loves Aziraphale [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1463242
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A direct sequel of [Imposter Syndrome](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678942)  
> It's not necessary to read it to understand this fic, but it's highly recommended.
> 
> That’s an AU:  
> Terry and Neil never wrote ‘Good Omens’ but they wrote ‘William the Antichrist’ in 1995, where an incompetent demon called Crawleigh, who drives a Citroen 2CV, try to stop the Apocalypse by himself. The book gained a Live-Action in 2019.

31th of May, 2019. _William, the Antichrist_ is aired in Amazon Prime.

“Hahaha, we did it! We fucking did it!” Douglas Mackinnon, the show’s director, was the happiness itself. He and Gaiman celebrated the success of his hard work in the writer’s house, drinking like two thirsty men that just left the Rehab. “Neil, have you read the reviews? Did you hear the fans talking on the internet? They loved the show! They loved! We did it, mate!”

“Yes, cheers!” the writer raised his glass and made a toast.

“Bottoms up, bampot!”

After tipping the glass over, Douglas immediately offered the bottle to Neil, who waved it away. He had already drunk too much and didn't want to wake up the next morning felling sick.

He was relieved. _Another good job done!_ he thought, looking at the bottom of the glass. _I bet Terry would be proud._

_Terry... would he be proud?_

“Hey, what face, Neil! Come on, cheer up!” the director gave his shoulder a friendly pat. “We did it! Not happy, mate?”

“Of course I am, quite happy! But...” the author let out a sigh.

“What's it?”

“Well, I'm thinking about Terry.”

“Oh.” Douglas dropped his face. “Hmm, you’re sad. You’re missing Sir Terry.”

“It’s not really a ‘sadness’, it’s like… how can I say? A... melancholy joy? A different feeling of lacking? It's like... um ... I think the Brazilians call it 'saudade'.”

“Ah.” the director nodded blankly. “Well, I think Sir Terry would be very proud of our work.”

Neil smiled. This was exactly what he needed to hear. He took the bottle and filled his glass.

“This is for you, Terry.”

“Aye, for you, Sir Terry!” said Douglas.

The two men toasted and smiled, but the feeling of saudade had not yet left the author's chest.

………………………………

In the months that followed, the series' success exceeded all expectations. Nobody works not counting on success, but considering that _William, the Antichrist_ was one of the lesser known works by both Gaiman and Pratchett, the accomplishment was greater than expected.

When Amazon made the proposal, Neil didn't like it very much at first. But the producers accepted all his demands, starting by hiring David Tennant for the role of the demon and Jon Hamm for the antagonist. Jeff Bezos be damned, but he had the money and the talent people on his payroll. And that’s the reason why Gaiman accepted the proposal. Even without Terry.

Without Terry.

The show was a huge success to the point that a second season was proposed. It’s true that there were some drafts of a possible continuation, but nothing very concrete. He and Terry had planned something for the future, but...

Without Terry.

No.

Just no.

Realizing that he couldn't think of anything else that day, Neil decided to go for a walk around London to cool his head in the fog.

………………………………

It was in a bookstore in Soho that Neil and Terry met, in 1991. Not exactly inside the bookstore, but outside. 'A-Zell-something' was the name of it.

The owner of the establishment was a strange fellow. To begin with, he was the worst salesman in the world. He treated the books as if they were his private collection and not his sales stock. He was a guy in his forties, with an appearance that made you sure of three things: that he was English, he was intelligent, he was gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide.

Nice bloke he was, Gaiman came to visit him a few more times and he helped the author overcome the 'impostor syndrome' that plagued him at the time, in addition to having some interesting conversations about the work and personal lives of ancient writers. The way he spoke of Marlowe, Aristotle, Mary Shelley and Lord Byron gave Neil the impression that he had known them all personally.

Over time, due to his busy schedule, the author ended up not coming back to the store. Probably the last time he visited was in 1994, twenty-five years ago.

It would be a good idea to go back there.

The store was still in exactly the same place. Looking through the window, Gaiman could have sworn that the same books remained exactly where they had been since the last time he visited the store. Passing through the door, he entered that warm and literature-filled atmosphere up to the ceiling.

"We’re closed!" said a voice in the back of the store. Neil recognized it immediately, smiling when he realized that the owner was still the same.

When the bookseller appeared, well, the certainty that the bookseller remained the same increased even more. So much so that the feeling was unpleasant.

The blue eyes, the blond-almost-white hair, the straight back and... oh ... that vest that must have been over a hundred years old remained exactly the same. The bookseller had not aged at all in twenty-five years.

"Sorry, sir, but we’re closed." the man said politely.

In that instant, Gaiman felt old. Older than he used to feel.

“Hey, Angel. Don’t you remember me?" he asked, half expecting that the answer would be negative.

The bookseller tilted his head delicately, after a few seconds he raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in an ‘oh’ so funny it made the author laugh.

"Neil ?!" he smiled and held out his hand for a greeting. “Oh, dear boy, how good to see you! We haven't seen each other in years!"

"Yes, many years." Gaiman looked the bookseller up and down. "You haven't aged at all."

"We all age."

"You certainly don't look to be more than forty."

"You can bet I'm over forty." the man gave a restrained laugh. “Please come with me! I'm going to open a wine to celebrate our reunion!”

“Hey, you don't have to waste your expensive wines on me. I just came to say hello. ”

"Nonsense!" the bookseller went to the back of the store. “You’re not going to stay here just for a hello, not at all! We’re going to sit and drink and eat and talk about books. Isn't this what we used to do in the past?”

"Yes of course." feeling at home, Neil sat in an armchair and waited comfortably to be served by his host. "Like old times."


	2. Chapter 2

1997

“In Soho? Which one?" asked Terry as he lit a cigarette. "There are a lot of bookstores in Soho."

"Ah, I forgot the exact address, but it's a big, corner store." Neil shrugged. “There are an absurd amount of rare books, but it seems that the owner doesn't like to sell any of them.”

"Heh, so why does the bloke insist on keeping the store open?"

“This is the point, he closes it constantly during business hours. He doesn't need to sell book, though. The motherfucker must be rich as hell, because he always has old wines in the pantry.”

"Old wines? Okay, now you have my attention!"

“Haha! You really should go out there and see the store, Terry! You’ll love it."

"Great! Why don't we go together next week?”

“Oh, next week, I can't. I have to go to the United States. Fucking business”

"How about next month?"

"Family vacation."

"Oh... well, we'll set up a day for you to introduce me to this strange bookstore, though."

"Yeah, sure!"

.................................

2019

“Neil? Is something wrong going on in your mind?” Angel asked, after realizing that Gaiman hadn't paid any attention to their chat in the past three minutes.

"Hm, what?" the author awoke as if he had been kicked out of a dream. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Incidentally, my head is so in the clouds that I haven't given you this yet.”

The writer took a signed edition of William, the Antichrist out of his backpack. More specifically its new edition, released that month, with the cover modified to promote the Amazon Prime series.

"Oh, thank you very much!" the blond took the book in his hands and flipped through it. "You just forgot the dedication, dear boy."

"Ah yes. Excuse me." picking up a pen, he wrote the dedication on the first page. "By the way, do you still have that first edition I gave you in 1995?"

“Yes, by the way, I owe you lunch since that time, because you mailed the book to me. I said that as soon as you send me a book of yours, I’d take you to lunch. ”

"Geez, you don't have to bother."

"The only bother I will have is if you don't accept it." Angel got up from the chair where he was sitting and gestured for his guest to follow him. "Come on, I'll keep it with the other editions."

In the middle of a maze of shelves, the bookseller guided Neil to one with the syllable 'Ga'. On the top shelf there were some authors like Gabbol, Gabler and Gabrielson. On the second shelf Gaeckinck, Gaerverdinck and Gagnon. And in the following shelves there were several books by a single author: Gaiman.

The aforementioned author opened his eyes wide when he realized that Angel had all the books written by him. Not only that, but I also had them in different editions. William, the Antichrist, had seven. All of them from past reissues, with other covers or limited runs.

"When a book has two authors, I get two copys." the blond tutted. "On the bookshelf dedicated to Sir Terry's books, with 'Pr', I have all these editions too."

"Wow, you're really a bookaholic!"

"With pride, dear boy!" Angel puffed out his chest and made his posture more upright. “Speaking of which, you have all these books to sign. After all, only the first edition of William made you a dedication. I would like to have in others, and in your other books too, like American Gods, Fragile Things, and… ”

"Oooh, are you kidding?" Gaiman winced at the thought of having to sign all of that. Not that he didn't like signing autographs, but looking at those crowded shelves made him tired.

"Well, if you don't want to ..." the blond looked down and pouted.

"Ugh, fine!" he took the pen out of his pocket. "But seriously, after I sign all this, you're going to have to take me to lunch at the Ritz or something like that!" he said, but joking.

Angel just smiled, taking that request very seriously.

…………………………………………

_Holy shit, he's fucking rich!_ Gaiman thought that, although he had enough money to eat at the Ritz, he didn't dare spend as much money as Angel was spending on that simple lunch.

Angel tasted each piece of lobster with almost sinful satisfaction. With each bite he let out a murmur of pleasure. With the sparkling wine it was the same thing, he liked to enjoy it in small sips, sighing and smiling.

Neil was not exactly good on a fork, but he enjoyed the expensive drink that the blonde was asking for the table "Don't be shy, order what you want, my treat!" even so, the author preferred to be content with the suggestions indicated by the bookseller. After a hearty lunch, Angel ordered a dessert and Gaiman accepted only an espresso to end the meal.

"... and the end of the book really surprised me!" the blond said, between a scoop of ice cream and another. "I mean, Fiódor has always had this tragic streak, but in Karamazovi Brothers the way in which moral degradation is portrayed is really...!"

"Again, you speak as if you have met the author in person." Neil said, rather brusquely. “But for you to have met Dostoevsky, you needed to be about a hundred and fifty years old, didn't you? Seriously, Angel, if you’re trying to hide that you’re some kind of immortal entity, you’re doing a terrible job. ”

Surprised, the blond swallowed and looked at his ice cream as if he had lost his hunger.

 _He's either a great actor, or maybe he's really more than meets the eye._ Gaiman thought, watching the genuine reaction of fear and embarrassment on the bookseller's face. For a moment the author felt a shiver run down his spine, as if he were about to cross a line from which he would have no return.

"Sorry." Neil said, making a vague gesture with his hand. “I think the wine went to my head, I said nonsense! Err... you were talking about The Karamazovi Brothers, right?”

"Uh, maybe I already drank and ate too much." he gestured to call the waiter. "I'm going to call a car to take you home."

"Wait." the author said, raising his hand. “I don't think I've finished signing all the books yet. There are the extra copies on Terry's shelf. Do you want me to sign those too?”

A cloud of fear passed over the blond's face and Gaiman didn't quite understand why. Once again, he felt like he was about to cross a dangerous line.

“Uh, it's not necessary! I mean, you've already signed the copies on your shelves. ”

"True." Neil shrugged. “Ideally, if you could get Terry's autograph for the copies on his shelf... But you don't. You’ll never have it.”

The memory of the conversation Neil had with his colleague in 1997 came to mind _. I should have brought Terry to Angel's bookstore. Damn, why did I postpone so much? Now... it's too late..._

"Actually, Sir Terry signed some books from the Discworld series for me."

_What?_

"Did you... meet him in person?!" the author almost got up from his chair. "When?"

“Uhhh, let me see ... in 2002? 2003, maybe? I don’t remember... uh.” it was exactly at this moment that the waiter arrived with the bill. Angel handed him a credit card, paid and started to get up, pretending to forget about it.

"Whoa!" Gaiman insisted. “Did you meet Terry in person? Why didn't you tell me that? ”

"Do you want me to call an Uber or call a traditional taxi?" the blond said quickly, without looking into Gaiman's eyes.

“Hey, hey! Stop playing deaf! ” his voice was irritated. “You met Terry! Why hide this from me? I told you several times that Terry was my best friend and that I’d love to introduce him to you! Why didn't you tell me before that you knew him?”

Swallowing, Angel looked at the author with sad eyes.

"Let's say... uh... the circumstances involve something that Sir Terry would prefer that he was not aware of... other people."

"Don't fuck with me!" had he not been inside a public space, Neil would have grabbed him by the collar. "Terry and I had no secrets between us!"

_Well, it looks like we did._

_He never told me that he visited Mr. Fell's bookshop, which I spoke to him so much about. Why?_

_Shit!_

"Ugh, very well." with a resolute sigh, the bookseller gave him a defiant look, his blue eyes shining with anxiety. "If you want to find out, come with me."

Once again the shiver down the spine. Neil had crossed the line. There was no turning back


End file.
